


Lines On Roads And Lines On Paper

by chasing_the_sterek



Series: Once Upon A Timeline [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale is a Softie, Foxes, Gen, He's a BAMF boyfriend let's just say that, Lowkey Sterek, Random Miscellaneous Fox Alert, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Tired Stiles Stilinski, sorta-kinda BAMF Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_the_sterek/pseuds/chasing_the_sterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is tired. Derek is not. Stiles is stubborn, but, funnily enough, so is Derek.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/>One Hundred Ways To Say "I Love You"<br/><b>1.</b> Pull over. Let me drive for a while.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines On Roads And Lines On Paper

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet, hopefully. I suck at oneshots.

"Pull over," Derek says suddenly. Stiles jumps, feeling his heartbeat spike at the unexpected break in the silence. "Let me drive for a while."

"I'm fine," Stiles replies a little tersely, lips pressed into a thin line against a mild, fuzzy headache as he glances out if the window at whatever he's passing. It's just shy of being too dark to see - they're in the middle of nowhere, with no streetlights, and it's midnight on a new moon. The stars are beautiful, but they don't really do much by the way of lighting up their surroundings.

"Stiles," Derek growls. "You're _tired."_

"Nope," Stiles retorts, focusing on the fact that he doesn't want to switch seats with Derek so that his heartbeat doesn't betray him and say it's a lie.

"I know that was a lie even if your heartbeat didn't waver," Derek huffs, obviously still bitter that Stiles mastered that trick. "You're radiating exhaustion. Besides, it's too vague an answer to be 100% true."

"Maybe I'm just not sure," Stiles mutters, and turns into another lane. He can see the twinkling lights of Beacon Hills in the distance - they're almost home. It's another seventy-five miles, sure, but he can make it.

"You're sure," Derek informs him.

Stiles mumbles something obscene and then swerves violently to avoid a fox, swearing a blue streak that would make a sailor blush at the jumpscare. Derek grumbles under his breath but doesn't seem very affected by the sharp movement or the litany of bad language. Scott slurs something incomprehensible from where he's sleeping sprawled on the back seat but otherwise doesn't seem to be very bothered either.

"I'll tell you one thing I'm sure of, and that's that I hate meeting with other packs," Stiles tells Derek honestly. He doesn't tear his eyes from the road, worried about accidentally running over any more suicidal nocturnal animals. "Seriously, man, how long did you lot have to drag that out for? It was obviously a no-go as soon as we stepped in the door."

"What makes you say that?"

"They had wolfsbane guns, Der, even if their pack was pure wolf without any human or other supernatural beings cluttering it up. They scowled at me when I came in, so apparently they don't approve of packs being anything other than solely werewolf. They shook your hand, but they wiped their hands on their jeans when you weren't looking, like they were disgusted they touched you or something. I doubt a damn peace treaty would've worked out, let alone an alliance."

Derek half-smiles. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"They kept glaring at me " Stiles shrugs. "God, I'm so staying home next time. I don't care if I'm your emissary, you can deal."

When Stiles glances over at his face, it's clearly saying the _if I have to sit through those meetings then so do you, damn it_ that Derek's avoiding saying so he doesn't sound like a five year old.

"Speaking of dealing," Derek says smoothly. "I want to swap, and _you_ can deal."

"No."

"Stiles, you're going to pass out soon. Stop driving and let me have the wheel."

"No."

"Pull over." Derek orders, Alpha Voice and everything.

"I have nowhere to stop." Stiles points out helpfully.

"There's a pit lane right there," Derek notes cheerfully as one meanders into view.

"Ugh," Stiles says eloquently, and yanks the wheel so his Jeep sways into the hard shoulder. "I can't believe a damn country lane has a hard shoulder but half of the motorway going to the next town over from Beacon Hills doesn't."

"Not my fault," Derek hums, opening the door and getting out before the car's finished rolling to a stop, "but very convenient."

Stiles narrows his eyes at the alpha through the window on the driver's side. He doesn't move to get out yet, just crosses his arms and glares when Derek opens the door.

"Stiles," Derek says exasperatedly.

The emissary doesn't twitch.  
_  
"Stiles,"_ Derek huffs, crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow in his best _really?_ expression. "Get out of the car and get into the passenger seat."

"No."

Derek's gaze hardens, but not enough to be fully serious, and he surges forward, arms already halfway around Stiles' waist by the time the younger man has registered he's actually moved.  
_  
"Excuse me -"_ Stiles shouts, because he's being bridal-carried around the bonnet of his own Jeep to the passenger side and it's derogatory, damnit.

"Excuse you," Derek agrees as he dumps Stiles unceremoniously on the seat and slams the door shut before the Spark can clamber back out.

Stiles scowls out of the window the whole way back.

Just to spite Derek, he doesn't sleep a wink.

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmmhmmmmmmmmm starry night manhandling what utter ROMANCE
> 
>  
> 
> (((((((it's half-two in the morning I've been up for nearly forty-eight hours)))))


End file.
